My sketch of Billie Eilish.
My sketch of Billie Eilish.
That’s what I was –
within a world of achievers.
too much space within my heart,
memories fading like flowers in autumn, withering, dying. I have buried them long ago.
too many thoughts within my mind,
making me forget what I once cherished most in life. For what is life, if there is no purpose.
I have forgotten the pain that sleeps within my body and broken soul. I cannot seem to remember, what has been there for too long.
how do I explain feeling
and nothing at all.
My drawing of the beautiful Kleofina. Go follow her on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kleofina
A time lapse video of a sketch I did recently. Enjoy!
This is no love poem;
I wrote this
to remind myself that this heart of mine
has not been aching since forever,
to remind myself that your leaving
has not taken love along its side.
How often you have told me
that I was too young to love as much as I pretended
and how long I tried to convince you
that the older I got, the less I could remember the taste of sweetness upon your lips,
the less I remembered the fear of losing
and the fear of forever.
You see; today I woke up
drenched in dreams of things that never were mine;
hollow heart and no thoughts at all,
as if all we had lived through had been merely dreams.
Some people abuse drugs,
I abused love;
so much so that I became addicted to your recognition,
I craved your arms;
first only at night,
then every second of my days.
If only I had been weak enough to give up,
maybe I’d be lying next to other rotting bodies;
to addicts of all-kinds,
until the sickness of love had reduced my bones to dust.
This is no love poem,
but I wish it was.
Jehona Thaqi© (selfportrait)
It was a late night in a quiet city,
the winter-breeze dancing around the façade of our house
which was enlightened by the mellow moon-shine
and covered in freshly fallen snow.
the candle-light flickered upon the silverware and wine glasses,
until the candles burned out;
and the light diminished upon a table full of things you loved to eat.
sitting on the couch you had bought for us,
wearing the dress you loved,
all black upon my pale skin;
my eyes fixed on the clock,
my ears listening to the silence that seemed so violent within this small house,
my hands pressed upon my thighs,
agressively; in order to stay awake.
you said you would be there,
as you did so often;
and when you could not make it,
you laughed, charmingly;
sometimes we make mistakes
you would say and kiss me on my forehead
and I would laugh, too;
the table still arranged,
it is alright, love.
but you did not come
until the first sun-rays shone through the curtains,
you laughed, and kissed me on my forehead,
the dress still upon my pale skin,
I laughed, too,
I had waited
Jehona Thaqi© (my drawing of Nera Z., you can follow her on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/nera.z/ )